


What Is Broken Can Be the Beginning (Or What Is Dislocated)

by Kaiserkorresponds



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Author Projecting onto Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Disabled Character, Eventual Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gen, Hurt Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Hurt/Comfort, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has EDS | Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist has POTS | Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, KT Tape, M/M, Mentioned Gertrude Robinson, Mentioned Sasha James, Mentioned Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Pre-Relationship, The Magnus Archives Season 1, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28452243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiserkorresponds/pseuds/Kaiserkorresponds
Summary: Martin flinched at the shout, but didn't falter."Your wrist." He stammered. "I heard, well I thought I heard, something break, and so I came to see what had happened, and you were just sitting there. With your wrist like that, and it looked bad, really bad, and well–"Martin broke off. "Do you need the A&E?"--Or Martin finds out about Jon's EDS in arguably the worst way !!
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 24
Kudos: 234





	What Is Broken Can Be the Beginning (Or What Is Dislocated)

"Shit." Jon swore harshly under his breath, grasping at his now definitely subluxated wrist. The joint was absolutely throbbing, and visibly displaced under the thin layer of skin. The cartilage knocked out of any sort of reasonable alignment. 

Served him right, thinking he could levy open the bottom drawer. It was a herculean task for anyone, functioning joints or not, and even on the best of days he'd never managed it without Tim or Sasha's help. Even then it typically took both of them and a fair dose of creativity. 

But he'd needed the follow up to this particular statement before he'd be able to proceed, and he hadn't had the foresight to store it elsewhere. 

It had only taken a few, admittedly vicious, yanks, however, to realize that his joints were budging far more than the drawer ever would. 

Hissing out another curse under his breath, Jon rolled the chair over towards the filing cabinet, still gripping the, now deeply aching, joint. 

There had been kinesthetic tape in that particular storage the last time he had checked, likely a leftover from the desk's previous owner, and he had decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth and left it there as a foresight. 

He slid one foot under the edge of the cabinet's drawer and roughly jerked it open. 

Luck was on his side as nestled in, right amongst the clutter, the roll of plain black KT tape. 

Letting out a strained, albeit grateful, sigh, Jon snatched it up with his uninjured hand and rolled the chair back over to the desk. 

Now the challenge, to reset the joint himself without causing further injury. 

He exhaled deeply again. 

With a deliberate motion he faced the surface of the desk, angling the subluxated joint against the stiff wood and bracing himself to realign it. 

On three, he counted. 

One, two– 

"Jon." 

Martin's panicked cry broke his concentration. 

Eyes snapping open, he glared harshly toward the doorway.

"What is it Martin?" He snapped, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. 

Martin flinched at the shout, but didn't falter. 

"Your wrist." He stammered. "I heard, well I thought I heard something break, and so I came to see what had happened, and you were just sitting there. With your wrist like that, and it looked bad, really bad, and well–" 

Martin broke off. "Do you need the A&E?" 

Jon inhaled, deep and deliberate, before speaking. 

"No, Martin, I don't." He forced his voice to remain even. "I would appreciate it if you did not barge in like that again, however."

Martin looked gutted. "But Jon, you, and– and, the sound, it was awful–" 

Jon nodded sharply, cutting off the flood of words. "That was the drawer. There's one in this desk that does not open easily. I simply wrenched it too hard." 

"But your wrist." Martin's entire form radiated barely restrained concern. 

Jon grit his teeth at the fretting. "It's fine, Martin. Just slightly displaced."

"That isn't– that doesn't seem fine." 

"It's a common occurrence. I know how to deal with it. Without going to the A&E, if you would give me a moment." 

Jon gestured stiffly to the desk where his wrist still laid, the joint beginning to swell as it remained out of place. 

"Are you sure about that? It seems–"

Jon exhaled forcefully. "Martin. I know what I'm doing. If I'm not able to put it back in place within the next few minutes it will fully dislocate and then I'll actually have to go to A&E." 

Martin stood shocked in the doorway. "Have you–" 

"Yes, I've done this before, now if you would shut up so I can fix this properly." Jon snapped. 

Martin went silent. His eyes were blown out to near comically wide, but he made no move to say anything further. 

Jon nodded sharply once. 

Checking the position of his wrist, it hadn't fallen out of the careful angle he had positioned it in, and it was still in the proper place to be relocated. 

He inhaled deeply, and without any further premadable, or counting down, shoved his forearm against the desk as hard as he could manage. 

The loud crack echoed immediately in the tiny space, followed instantly by Martin's anxious cry and his own groan of relief. 

"Jon?"

"Yes, Martin?" Jon slowly reopened his eyes, glancing back up towards Martin. 

"Is it, is it fixed now?" 

Jon exhaled heavily. "It's relocated, yes. I still will need to tape it, however it's technically fixed." 

Martin nodded anxiously, chewing at his bottom lip. 

"Is there something else I can do for you?" Jon asked pointedly, ripping off a long strip of KT tape. 

The sticky backing made an obnoxious squelch as it was torn free, and the motion jostled his definitely tender wrist rather unpleasantly. 

There was a nervous pause, broken only by the faint sticky sounds of the tape. 

"Do you, do you do that often?" Martin asked, his voice soft and halting over the question. 

"Which part?" 

Jon glanced back up at the answering silence, pausing with the strip of tape wound part way around his wrist. 

Martin looked horrified. With his eyes stretched even wider than before, and his typically pale skin blanched, he almost resembled the apparitions described in many of the false statements. 

"Is there a problem?" Jon asked. 

"Just, you know that's not, that's not good, Jon." Martin stuttered, waving a shaky hand towards the strips of tape criss-crossing the swollen joints of his wrist. "That's not– it can't be good for you." 

Jon sighed again, exhaling harshly against both the lingering ache and the frustration. 

Quickly, he stuck down the last few inches of the tape. Smoothing over the edges to ensure it would remain on, before looking back up to Martin's anxious face. 

"Not that it is at all relevant to actual workplace business. Or to you personally." He muttered. "But I have a condition called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, also known as EDS. It makes me prone to these types of accidents." 

Jon gestured with his free hand to the newly splinted injury. 

A multitude of unidentifiable emotions flickered over Martin's face before finally landing on cautious relief. 

"You dislocate things often?" He asked slowly. 

Jon made a jerky shrugging motion. 

"Sometimes more than others. It truly has no bearing on my ability to complete work, however." 

Martin nodded heistantly, clearly processing the information. 

A foergin expression crossed his face. "Does it hurt?"

"Well, yes." Jon frowned. "The joint is being displaced. If it didn't hurt there would be a far more serious problem." 

Martin looked significantly more upset at the admittance. 

"It's not that common of an occurrence really." Jon said hastily, cutting off the inevitable line of questioning. "I simply thought I could get the drawer open myself this time, and I didn't want to cause a disruption."

Martin glanced up from where his gaze had fallen to the floor, the anxiety in his blue eyes blending into an overwhelming compassion. "You know if you need help with anything you can just ask. I know I'm not, not really the best assistant. But I can definitely open a drawer, even if it is a bit sticky."

Jon nodded awkwardly under the intensity of the sympathy. 

"Alright. Well, erm, thank you." 

Martin nodded in return, fidgeting nervously in the doorway. "Well I suppose I should be going then. I've already been enough of an interruption." 

He turned to leave, the back of his blonde curls flopping as he went to walk away. 

"Wait, Martin." 

"Yes, Jon?" Martin froze, turning back towards the desk. 

"I could, I could still use help with that drawer if you're amicable."

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Author has EDS/POTS and all the associated issues !!! 
> 
> Just a little EDS Jon fic to start off the year !!! <3


End file.
